Post by Joey Flash on Nov 11, 2014 16:10:14 GMT -5
Five years ago.
Alessandra Allegri stared up into the lights as the soothing warm water from the shower fell over her body, the blood trickled down the plughole. She watched as the last specks of crimson from her hair swept around her feet on their trip down the pipes. It had been thirty minutes since she had killed.
She met her own gaze in the mirror, a tall lithe olive skinned beauty stared back, raven black hair hanging halfway down her back. She had lost count of the people she had murdered. At first it was tears, haunted dreams and sleepless nights. Now it was a shower and a change of clothes. This expensive bathroom had been paid in fear, suffering, exploitation and death. She could have had this life regardless; her father was famous throughout Italy, Bernardo Allegri was a highly successful and highly wealthy Sicilian entrepreneur and philanthropist. She however knew her dear old daddy as a highly successful racketeer, extortionist, drug smuggler and arms dealer. It was an accident she ended up in the wrong side of the ‘family business.’ But no accidents were ever without their reason she mused. It would have been her little brother if it wasn’t her, so she was happy he was saved this life. It made her smile every time she saw him suited up at a promotional event or function. This was not for you Gianpaolo, this is my life, and this is my world.
She came back down about half an hour later, her threadbare nightdress concealed by a silken purple robe. She instantly summoned Vincenzo. Moments later Vincenzo appeared a smile on his chubby face. He was a man in his 50’s, a good friend of her father Vincenzo had spent the last thirty years of his life as Alessandra’s mentor and bodyguard. To say she adored this man was an understatement.
Alessandra: Champagne please my dear, I need to wind down. And do pour yourself a glass, and come join me in the drawing room... I'm ending your shift early tonight; I do enjoy your company on these lonely winter nights.
Vincenzo: It would be an honour and a privilige, Miss Allegri.
Alessandra: Alessandra. You're off duty now.
Vincenzo: Of course Miss Allegri.
A smile adorned Alessandra’s lips as she made her way into the drawing room; forsaking the more elegant furniture for the comfort of the comparatively tatty plush pink sofa, which had been a present to her from Joseph just after she moved to the States. It had been such a long time now, almost three years since he disappeared. She'd been engaged twice since then... both condemned to failure from the start, still it was probably for the best. No bonds, no ties and no pain. She refused to be a target, refused to be weak.
Vincenzo came in with two glasses, handing one to Alessandra before sitting down opposite her.
Vincenzo: So Miss... Are we off to Los Angeles on Friday then?
Alessandra pursed her lips.
Alessandra: What’s in Los Angeles that tempts you Vincenzo? Or does father need me there?
Vincenzo: No, I do not believe so. I just want to see the world Miss.
Alessandra smiled. Their thoughts, however, were interrupted by a loud buzz. Vincenzo stood up, and walked across to the monitor.
Vincenzo: Vincenzo here... is there a problem at the door?
Security: *krkkkkk*... We have apprehended a vagrant here at the front entrance... matted disgusting little man. He claims to be an old friend of Miss Allegri’s. What would she like us to do with him?
Vincenzo glanced across to Alessandra, whom wrinkled up her nose.
Alessandra: And you are calling this to my attention why?
Security: I just thought-
Alessandra: Do a lot of thinking do you? You interrupt me again and I will have your position terminated.
Security: He’s very insistent, we’ve searched him. He’s not armed.
Alessandra pondered for a moment; she whirled away from Vincenzo toward the kitchen before returning with a cleaver. He’s either here for my head, or he’s going to be a very unlucky beggar who will be getting his head in his little hat. Either way, she had decided, this man would not leave here alive. She nodded to Vincenzo and concealed the cleaver in her gown.
Vincenzo: Bring him inside. Miss Allegri wishes to offer her hospitality to our new arrival.
The thud of a limp body resounded throughout the room as the tramp was unceremoniously released by the security men, who then made sure to stand quickly back, the odour obviously becoming too much for them. It would feel good, Alessandra thought, to release some more tension, as she looked at the man laid on the floor half a room away. Long matted black hair, an awful beard, disgusting. She should put a bullet in him out of principal.
Alessandra: A friend he says?
Security #1: You can understand why we didn't believe him...
Security #2: I feel sick...
She turns to the security.
Alessandra: Out.
They quickly disperse. She turned to Vincenzo.
Alessandra: You too.
She hated being watched. This was her sanctuary, her serenity. The same way Van Gogh wouldn’t want someone watching him perform his greatest piece of work, neither would she. She points to the wretched man on the floor.
Alessandra: You are either bold or exceedingly stupid. What exactly were you thinking you would get here, money?
The man coughed into a laugh, holding his hand to his mouth he pulled it back and looked at the mucus he just spat up, he ran his tongue along his hand licking it straight back in.
Man: A hot drink would be nice.
Alessandra didn't like strange tramps ignoring her questions nor did she appreciate them making requests for sustenance.
Alessandra: This is only going one way for you. The only question is quick or slow. I can oblige either.
The man looked up for the first time and stared at her.
Man: It's the beard, right?
The man coughed again, not even caring to cover his mouth, a glob of snot fell onto the floor in front of him, she might add his brains to it as well in a moment. He stared into her eyes and laughed, his voice broken and cold.
Man: My name is Joseph Malignaggi, and I am here because you are the only person I have left.
Alessandra felt her world turn in on itself. Her stomach knotted, her pulse raced and she broke out in a cold sweat. The cleaver fell to the floor narrowly missing her bare feet. It was him, it really was him. She looked into the deep blue eyes and she knew. She didn’t know what to do, what to think, what to say. So she hit him. The man fell like a sack of shit and coughed his lungs out again.
Alessandra: You look like shit.
That was the best she could manage. Three years of hurt, solitude and despair and that was all that she could manage. Alessandra collapsed back on the sofa, a multitude of feelings running through her. She was sickened and horrified to see... HIM... the love of her life, in this state, and yet adulated that he'd come back to her. In fact, it was a very rare case that Alessandra would let her guard down so quickly... but those words, that name... they revealed perhaps the only weakness in Alessandra’s repertoire.
The man...Joey...he clambered back up to his feet and shrugged his shoulders, simply pointing to his right toward the stairs.
Joey: Shower?
Alessandra: You come here after three fucking years and-
She sighed.
Alessandra: Third door on the left.
Joey turned from her without reply and headed off toward the sweeping staircase, he stopped at the bottom.
Joey: Your kindness… it’s not deserved.
He slowly ascended the stairs with an almost pathetic gait.
What had happened to him? The man she had once loved, a strong, confident man with all the wit, charm and dashing good looks a woman could ever dream of and suddenly, one day, he was gone. Disappeared. Vanished. Alessandra had been broken-hearted, at least, as much as her exterior would allow. Where had he been? Why had he left her, and why had he come to her now? These were things she didn't know, didn't understand, and while she could easily have mauled him for fucking off and leaving her, seeing him how he was... and the intrigue, the pique of curiosity... she had to see this through. Most pressingly though, she felt sympathetic. A little anyway. She probably felt more disgusted than sympathetic. No, that wasn't fair. She didn't know. She really didn't know. Joseph Malignaggi... where have you been? Where will you go from here? Somehow, she felt a changing in the wind.
She heard a noise coming down the stairs, and snapped out of her daydream. Despite still looking like a yeti, she couldn't help but giggle a bit at the sight of Joey wearing one of her pink silk robes and smelling of lavender bubble bath. His eyes darted about the room for a moment as if unsure what to do.
Alessandra: Now you look ridiculous.
Joey slowly made his way over to the sofa, his gaze fixed on it for a moment before he slowly sat down next to Alessandra.
Alessandra: You're very quiet. I...
She wasn't sure what to ask. She had a lot to ask.
Alessandra: What's happened?
Joey rested his hands on his knees and took in a breath.
Joey: You look beautiful.
Alessandra: Quite. Where were you?
Joey: Surviving.
Alessandra: Why are you here?
Joey flinched for a second.
Joey: For forgiveness...I guess.
Alessandra: Where have you been?
Joey: Running isn't an option anymore.
Alessandra felt confused, and concerned. Running from who? From her?
Alessandra: Where have you been??
She pushed him on this. Joey stood up, clenching his fists and releasing in quick motion. He was nervous.
Joey: I got involved with some people Ally, some REALLY bad people, the likes you don't wanna know even exist, let alone-
Alessandra knew. She was probably in business with half of them. Joey didn’t know. He would never know about her, how deep the rabbit hole went. He was as small time as it ever got. They would never have even met save for meeting Joey back when he was wrestling for a celebrity fund raiser her brother had organised. She didn’t know he lived half his life in her world then, she wished to the bottom of her heart he didn’t. Joey was pure. He was kind. He just grew up in the wrong place with the wrong people. Last time she had seen him he came in soaked in blood and coked off his face. He was a shell of himself and a husk of the man she had fallen in love with.
Joey paused for a moment, and then spoke again almost pitifully: I'm not a coward.
Alessandra: I never said you were.
She didn't think he was. If he'd got on the wrong side of the wrong sort of people, running was a very good idea. She didn’t doubt his manhood, just his intelligence. If he could just tell her. He knew her father had the level of influence he did, he could have protected you from anything Joe…
Alessandra: It couldn’t be that bad, why didn’t you just talk to me? You know my father would have-
Joey steadied himself.
Joey: No. This is my fight, this is my fuck up. I’ll deal with it myself. I can’t let them-
Alessandra: Let them what?
Joey turned to look at her, before quickly looking away again.
Joey: He took everything, everything...and it won't stop Ally.
All she needed was a name. This suffering would be ended by morning.
Alessandra: Whom is... "He"?
Joey slumped against the wall.
Joey: Yeah. Okay. Okay. Just…don’t hate me.
Alessandra: The name.
Joey: Robert Faccheti.
Alessandra’s heart sunk, she knew Robert. He had been who Joey introduced as ‘his father’ with a big toothy grin. Joey had told her that he was the one who got him ‘on the straight and narrow.’ He was a friend of her fathers too; she knew what the straight and narrow meant for him. She attended his daughters christening only two years ago. She knew Robert, he was her friend. She knew him…and he knew her. She could feel the rage building up inside her.
Joey: You remember Robert, Alessandra? I did everything for that man, I gave my blood, I gave him my SOUL, it’s disgusting isn't it, caught slipping because of loyalty and trust, because of belief...because of love. That’s who Alessandra, he ripped my heart out, and even now just won’t let it rest.
Alessandra: I remember him. What…what happened?
Joey: It's what happens when someone gets greedy, and others are too stupid to realise it, that’s all.
Alessandra: Greed is a fatal flaw.
Joey stared at her for a moment.
Joey: Please, don't push this. It's nothing for you to worry about.
Alessandra: I’m pushing this Joseph. What happened?
Joey slams his fist against the wall and spoke again, voice raised and agitated.
Joey: What happened? I lost everything, I lost EVERYONE. Do you understand what I'm saying? Why do you think I would leave this place, leave you?!
Alessandra hadn't expected this.
Alessandra: I... I don't know...
Joey: Okay then, let me spell it out for you, everyone I have ever cared for, everyone I have ever loved is dead, because of this, because of this bullshit I got myself into. Everyone except you.
Alessandra stared at Joey. She was incandescent. She pictured his face. Robert Faccheti. Fucking snake. You robbed me. You robbed me of my life. You fucking snake, you cockroach. You smiled at me; you kissed my hand and called me beautiful knowing that you had done…this, this to Joseph. It goes beyond rage, Alessandra was about to go fucking nuclear.
Joey: And I'm gonna make sure that doesn't change.
Alessandra just felt a deep chill run through her. She didn't say anything, but it was her turn to look away.
Joey: If these people can't get to you, they slowly and carefully destroy everything around you. I guess you can say I left because I was selfish, scared and weak. I left my friends to die and I didn’t think twice. I left you. I can’t do this.
She looked away again, she didn't want him to see the anger building up inside her. Her whole body was shaking with fury. Joey took a few steps away from her.
Joey: I was looking after numero uno, as always, and you don't have to care, I don't deserve it.
Alessandra: I care.
Joey: Don't. If I could take all the pain I caused people on to myself I would. I don't even know why I’m here.
Alessandra: We all cause pain Joseph. I've caused a lot of pain and suffering in my life...
She stopped mid-sentence. Joey slaps the wall and glares at Alessandra.
Joey: Don't you pity me. You should hate me, resent the day we met, god knows I do.
Alessandra shrugged.
Alessandra: Well maybe I'm just stupid then. You need to worry less about my pity, and more about the pity you have for yourself. The Joseph Malignaggi I knew wouldn't feel sorry for himself! He wouldn't stand there putting himself down! As far as I can tell, the reason you came here is because you've lost your self-respect!
Joey: Look, I should just go; this is a waste of time.
Joey turns away and walks past Alessandra. Alessandra snorts with derision.
Alessandra: And where exactly are you going to go, hmmm? Find a tramp to do some meths with? Find a ditch to shrivel up and die in?
Joey smiles.
Joey: That'd be heaven.
Alessandra: Just stay here, for God's sake. You're better than this! Besides... you'll be safe here. And that's what matters the most.
Joey stares out of the window, ignoring Alessandra.
Joey: Anywhere I go I’m in danger. No more running, I guess sometimes you have to pay the piper.
Alessandra: Rubbish. We're all in charge of our own destiny. Its dog eat dog out there, and you're looking like a mighty fine meal at the moment but you’ll figure something out…we'll figure something out, okay?
Joey finally looks at her.
Joey: I don't want you hurt.
Alessandra: I'm a tougher lady than you think Joey. I'll take that chance.
Joey: Maybe, but I won't. You're the last thing-
Joey coughs once more and turns away, as he stumbles through the hall. Alessandra follows him and grabs him roughly.
Alessandra: Let me put it this way. You don't get a choice in the matter. You're staying here and that's the end of it. No-one will get past the security here, I assure you.
Joey: I did.
Joey looks at her, and for the first time Alessandra sees the terror in the man's eyes.
Joey: Look, I don't-
Alessandra walks up to him, and gingerly puts an arm around him.
Alessandra: You’re safer here. I won't let you walk away. I’ve had three years snatched from me. No more, you understand? I don’t care what issues you have or what bullshit we have to wade through. You will survive, and that’s all I need to know.
Joey clears his throat from lumping up and strokes her hair, pulling her head against his shoulder, tears running down his cheeks, no longer his gaze wavering.
Joey: I will take care of this. I will take care of it all.
11/11/14 - Present
We open with the cameraman descending a set of stairs, shaky and with heavy breathing we follow Joey Flash.
Joey: Oh Jesus fuck.
He turns to look at the camera, a look of fear in his eyes. He opens a door at the bottom and darts inside.
Joey: If you’re coming fucking come, don’t wait outside.
This seemed to be said with genuine concern then anger. We enter the room to find a bomb shelter, heavy packed with cans of terrible food and large bottles of expensive water.
Cameraman: I didn’t take you for a Doomsday prepper.
Joey wheels round toward him.
Joey: What? I’m not. Jesus oh god.
Joey is nearly hyperventilating.
Joey: I just need, I just need to sit down or something. You better have closed the fuckin door.
Cameraman: Then what’s the deal with this place?
Joey: Huh? What you haven’t fucking heard? Look man if you value your life you need to get out of here, you need to do it now.
Cameraman: Uhhh.
Joey: Motherfucker have you not seen Dawn of the Dead? Oh fuck.
Joey scrambles on the floor for some makeshift weapon. He ends up with a shovel.
Joey: Yo when I signed the contract with this fucking thing I signed it to wrestle ya know? I did not sign up for this. This is bullshit.
Joey practices a few jabs with the shovel.
Joey: Yeah…this’ll do. This’ll do just fine. Okay. I’m ready, I’m fucking ready for you.
Cameraman: Oh, you’re fighting Zombie McMorris.
Joey: Bitch was that not fucking obvious? All I wanted to do was have a nice time ya know, enjoy wrestling, maybe put the odd beatdown on a punk from time to time but to have me fighting undead warriors is not part of my contract. What the fuck? Like I’m supposed to beat someone who is fucking dead? Unless I’m bringing a shotgun to the ring with me quite honestly I’m fucked.
Cameraman: Joey I don’t-
Joey: You don’t anything! You don’t have to fight a fucking zombie. What’s next I’m going to be sparring with a Xenomorph? Gonna be fighting Godzilla in a fucking cage match?
He slumps to the floor.
Joey: Ahhh fuck, how do I even train for this? Not like I can find another zombie to practice against. I’ve been studying my opponent though, close as I could fucking get. They only had Season 4 of The Walking Dead at the store, shit was terrible but I’ve got a good fix on his movement though, doesn't have the best of footwork. Just gotta avoid that fuckin bite. I hope he gets disqualified if he bites me and I die. That would be nice at least. It’s against the rules man.
Joey pauses for a moment. He begins laughing and throws the shovel to the ground.
Joey: Really? Good almighty god.
Cameraman: I was about to call the mental hospital.
Joey: Shut it. Hello Mr Z McMorris. You have the face of a keyed Taurus. How’s it going today? I’ll get to you in a second. Gotta take care of some business.
OCCULO! What up buddy. How’d that feel? As blasé as I was about fighting the pair of you, you actually entertained me. What an interesting little mite you are. You caught my interest, pretty good of you really. Want a little secret? Come closer.
The camera obliges.
Joey (whispering): I’m going to cost you your shot at being number one contender at Slam. You entertain me in your struggle. You are very much a product of your environment, so I’m going to mould you into something even more interesting I think. You’re my new hobby. Will the little mite become a beautiful butterfly? Or will the little mite be ground down underfoot. I think the former. That’s why I’m spending my time on you. Be prepared.
Joey steps back from the camera.
Joey: Where was I? Oh yeah, I was nowhere, zombies, right! I actually did well last week; I watched a lot of WCF programming. This helped a fuck ton. Main thing being I actually know who the fuck you are. Well, kinda. So you are-
Joey fumbles for a piece of paper and reads.
Joey: -WCF Television Champion and WCF Tag Team Champion.
Joey applauds.
Joey: Congratulations man. I’m so happy for you, genuinely. I think I might even shed a tear. You know when you watch those Make a Wish videos and see the little retards jump up and down and be so delighted they managed to have something positive in their life for once, that actually happened to you. You succeeded man. You got game.
Joey wipes a tear.
Joey: I got a few questions though. First but foremost…what in holy fuck are you? Like really? You are one of the strangest, most bafflingly stupid people in this federation, of which there are lots. I think you might be the spunk floating at the top of the flotsam of ridiculousness. Let me get this straight, you go from cryptic harbinger of doom when you’re alone to angry wigger when with your friends?
You go hard when you’re solo, I can appreciate that. But the second either of the other two mongoloids appear you turn into this strange thing that speaks in a language I can barely fucking understand. From Zombie McMorris to ‘ZMAC’ the cockhead the second the smell of kush crosses his nostrils. It’s like Superman going into the phone booth and coming out as a single celled amoeba.
Cameraman: Oh! I can help!
Joey: Huh?
Cameraman: Listen.
The cameraman uses his phone to play:
Joey: Okay so what I’ve gathered. Is a machine gun is a tommy, a murder is homi and a massive faggot is a Zombie? I’m feeling it.
Z-Mac, ya team wack I’d get ya’ll wrecked for three stacks.
I’ll think of more. For now, we continue the roasting session. You’re that annoying motherfucker who goes around saying ‘nigga this’ ‘nigga that’ ‘nigga pick’ ‘nigga get whipped’ on the basis you have ONE black friend. That class as a pass nowadays? Steve Orbit is looking shaky baby. What would your mother say if she could see you now?
I’ve been here what, one week? Aight. So not long, I have absolutely no idea how you set of jokers managed to get the stranglehold on all the top spots here. Truly baffles the mind. You’ve either had it easy or gotten very lucky. All these new wrestlers here trying to make nice, trying to build shit, I’m here for all of your heads; I’m here to kill shit.
Joey pauses and starts jumping up and down in glee.
Joey: I thought of a rhyme!
I’m slicker than ICEman I’m cold as a glacier
Zombie cunt I’ll brutally rape ya,
Do me a favour.
Your friends might try to futilely save ya
Write your eulogy with the same chalk they’ll be using to trace ya
I’ll smoke you all and reduce you to vapor.
Cameraman coughs.
Joey: I’m coming for your title cocksucker. Make that lil Vapor trophy cabinet a little emptier one by one. But I start with you. If Vapor Kings was a video game you wouldn’t even be the boss on the first level. I like to find some kind of connection with people I fight; I hope even those where I don’t find it at first they manage to have a bit of depth about them, something making them driven or strong so they show me when mano a mano in the ring. You? Fucking joke. How is anyone supposed to form a connection with you?
Fans don’t like you, they don’t care. I’ve seen you on TV nigh on ten times and I couldn’t tell someone ten things about you. Was that apathy on my part or was that due to the fact you babble on a hell of a lot but don’t really say much? You’re the idiot in the room who thinks ‘he who speaks loudest speaks truth’. Well the truth is this: I find absolutely no connection with you, fans find no connection with you.
I don’t know who the fuck you are, am I off base with everything I said here, am I ignorant to you as a person and a wrestler? Why would you expect me to know huh? Because you don’t know your fucking self. I’m an open book; you’re a page that people have already wiped their shit with. Maybe this can be the beating that finally puts a bit of sense into that thick fat head of yours. You’re clouded and you’re lost. I’ll find you McMorris, none of your babbling bullshit can help you in the ring. Your posse can’t help you, only you can help you. I hope we can come to a mutual understanding in the ring so when I take your title it won’t be for naught. You’ll be proud, you’ll be free and you’ll for the first time in an age be happy…
Or maybe you’ll just get your fucking face stomped in and be sent to the hospital. Who knows? I don’t view this match as any more than it is; this isn’t a stepping stone or a test of my true skill. This is a match between two men. You have something I want, I’m going to take it and you’re going to do nothing about it.
You wouldn’t have even paid attention to my debut last week, nor given me a second thought. ‘Ehh I’ve seen these people come and go…nigga. Ya’ll get murk’d anyway!’ I’m warning you now and I’m giving you fair warning what I’m going to be bringing. I don’t want to catch you slipping nor do I want to eek a tough victory out because you weren’t prepared. I want to put you straight into that black leather bag and zip you up as a warning to the rest of the federation what it’s gonna be like when you face me.
He picks the shovel back up.
Joey: Good luck Honey Badger, shine my title. Bodybags on deck.
You’re finished.
CUT
Later that evening.
The old man’s hand was shaking as he pressed the button ‘Penthouse’ on the elevator pad. He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusting his tie. His face still showed the signs of last week; he would be permanently scarred below his left eye. All for money. The doors opened with a ping, and he stepped out, to be greeted by a large bouncer.
Dewey: I’m h-here to see Mr.Flash.
The bouncer looks him up and down.
Bouncer: Follow me.
The bouncer led him through Flash’s beautiful roof garden. He took his time to close his eyes and take in the smells around and gave a happy sigh before realising what he was here for. The bouncer raised a hand to stop him.
Bouncer: Wait here.
The bouncer then guided Dewey to a bench in the garden and sat him down, before returning to his place at the elevator. Dewey could hear laugher coming from inside of Flash’s office, there was someone else in there, a tall muscled Hispanic with a buzz cut and tattoos.
Joey handed him a glass of red wine, taking a sip of his own.
Joey: You came highly recommended, and I must say you lived up to your end and more Miguel.
Miguel: Thank you Mr.Flash.
Joey: Tell him his baby will be delivered fine.
Miguel: Yes Mr. Flash.
Joey sets his glass down and looks up at his set of CCTV monitors and his smile disappears.
Joey: I have something to deal with, if you don’t mind?
Miguel: Of course. Say hello from me.
Joey: Adios.
Miguel and Joey shake hands before Miguel leaves the room, glancing at Dewey before whispering to the bouncer and opening the door to the elevator.
Joey: Come in.
Dewey tentatively gets to his feet, still shaking he ambles into Flash’s office. To his surprise, Flash has a wide smile. This isn’t good. Joey motions to sit down, to which Dewey obliges immediately. Joey studies Dewey. He pulls the wine bottle out again.
Joey: Drink?
Remembering last time…
Dewey: N-n-no thank you, I-i don’t drink anymore.
Joey puts the wine back down.
Joey: Good to hear it buddy. It’s not good for your health. How are you doing?
Dewey: F-fffine thank you.
Joey leans over the desk and loses the smile as quickly as he gained it.
Joey: Do you remember our conversation when you brought me my money, Dewey?
Dewey wriggles in his seat.
Dewey: Y-yes sir.
Joey: Well, as I did you a favour by allowing you to keep your…amenities. I want that favour returned. Now Dewey, I am not an unreasonable man. I know there are things outside your capabilities and your morality, so I will not push you beyond yourself. However I need…
Joey bends over the table and whispers into Dewey’s ear. Dewey’s face droops almost immediately after Flash has finished speaking.
Dewey: You can’t be serious?!?! I can’t!!
Joey (sighing): I’m disappointed Dewey. I had trust in you that you would repay my favour, but by not performing a simple request? I find that not as much disappointing, but insulting. I didn’t want it to come to this. But do you know what address this is?
Joey unfolds a piece of paper from his desk and shows it to Dewey, who now has tears in his eyes.
Dewey: Oh god. OK, OK. I’ll do ask you ask. Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Joey: I want it done tonight, no later.
Dewey: Of course I will.
Joey lifts the wine bottle out again.
Joey: Dutch courage?
Dewey: Please.
Joey just hands the bottle over to Dewey. His will to not drink reduced in an instant, he takes a big swig.
Joey: Once this is done, consider yourself a free man, Webster.
Dewey: Thank you. Thank you.
Joey: Leave.
Dewey takes another drink of the wine before stumbling out of the office. Joey reclines in his chair letting a loud sigh. His heart rate was high; this was the nature of things. He needed this, he needed it now. Joey pulled a case from the bottom drawer, opening it to carefully retrieve his sanctuary. He pressed the needle into his arm and squeezed. His world was right again, the demons wouldn’t come for him now, they wouldn’t come tonight.
It had been five years, nearly five years since Robert Faccheti had died and Joey was free. He remembered the look on the children’s faces, he remembered that look of confusion, pain and hurt. He remembered their cries of ‘Daddy’ as they saw their father’s brains spilling from his skull. His killer too stupid to cover his face or wear a mask. Joey was an idiot; he was an idiot then, he was a child killer now.
He didn’t remember it, but he knew. He knew. Reading the news next day was a dagger to Joey’s ‘purity’, to his sanity and to his life. What was it worth? Do unto others as they do to you? Well done junkie. Joey Flash was successful, he had a beautiful four year old child and a fiancée who loved him more than the world itself, he was becoming a wrestler again and trying to recapture the last aspect of his soul that still existed. Do you deserve a title killer?
Do you deserve anything at all?
Do you deserve to live? There’s the roof, just throw yourself off. It’s easy.
No more pain for you.
An eye for an eye, it’s what they would want. Those two children, those two witnesses, those two headstones.
Joey stared into his wine glass, his vision hazed and blurry. He began laughing, and then he sobbed.
How does success taste? This is the part that scared him the most, this is the part that haunted his dreams more than any, after everything…
…success tasted fucking beautiful.
End.
Alessandra Allegri stared up into the lights as the soothing warm water from the shower fell over her body, the blood trickled down the plughole. She watched as the last specks of crimson from her hair swept around her feet on their trip down the pipes. It had been thirty minutes since she had killed.
She met her own gaze in the mirror, a tall lithe olive skinned beauty stared back, raven black hair hanging halfway down her back. She had lost count of the people she had murdered. At first it was tears, haunted dreams and sleepless nights. Now it was a shower and a change of clothes. This expensive bathroom had been paid in fear, suffering, exploitation and death. She could have had this life regardless; her father was famous throughout Italy, Bernardo Allegri was a highly successful and highly wealthy Sicilian entrepreneur and philanthropist. She however knew her dear old daddy as a highly successful racketeer, extortionist, drug smuggler and arms dealer. It was an accident she ended up in the wrong side of the ‘family business.’ But no accidents were ever without their reason she mused. It would have been her little brother if it wasn’t her, so she was happy he was saved this life. It made her smile every time she saw him suited up at a promotional event or function. This was not for you Gianpaolo, this is my life, and this is my world.
She came back down about half an hour later, her threadbare nightdress concealed by a silken purple robe. She instantly summoned Vincenzo. Moments later Vincenzo appeared a smile on his chubby face. He was a man in his 50’s, a good friend of her father Vincenzo had spent the last thirty years of his life as Alessandra’s mentor and bodyguard. To say she adored this man was an understatement.
Alessandra: Champagne please my dear, I need to wind down. And do pour yourself a glass, and come join me in the drawing room... I'm ending your shift early tonight; I do enjoy your company on these lonely winter nights.
Vincenzo: It would be an honour and a privilige, Miss Allegri.
Alessandra: Alessandra. You're off duty now.
Vincenzo: Of course Miss Allegri.
A smile adorned Alessandra’s lips as she made her way into the drawing room; forsaking the more elegant furniture for the comfort of the comparatively tatty plush pink sofa, which had been a present to her from Joseph just after she moved to the States. It had been such a long time now, almost three years since he disappeared. She'd been engaged twice since then... both condemned to failure from the start, still it was probably for the best. No bonds, no ties and no pain. She refused to be a target, refused to be weak.
Vincenzo came in with two glasses, handing one to Alessandra before sitting down opposite her.
Vincenzo: So Miss... Are we off to Los Angeles on Friday then?
Alessandra pursed her lips.
Alessandra: What’s in Los Angeles that tempts you Vincenzo? Or does father need me there?
Vincenzo: No, I do not believe so. I just want to see the world Miss.
Alessandra smiled. Their thoughts, however, were interrupted by a loud buzz. Vincenzo stood up, and walked across to the monitor.
Vincenzo: Vincenzo here... is there a problem at the door?
Security: *krkkkkk*... We have apprehended a vagrant here at the front entrance... matted disgusting little man. He claims to be an old friend of Miss Allegri’s. What would she like us to do with him?
Vincenzo glanced across to Alessandra, whom wrinkled up her nose.
Alessandra: And you are calling this to my attention why?
Security: I just thought-
Alessandra: Do a lot of thinking do you? You interrupt me again and I will have your position terminated.
Security: He’s very insistent, we’ve searched him. He’s not armed.
Alessandra pondered for a moment; she whirled away from Vincenzo toward the kitchen before returning with a cleaver. He’s either here for my head, or he’s going to be a very unlucky beggar who will be getting his head in his little hat. Either way, she had decided, this man would not leave here alive. She nodded to Vincenzo and concealed the cleaver in her gown.
Vincenzo: Bring him inside. Miss Allegri wishes to offer her hospitality to our new arrival.
The thud of a limp body resounded throughout the room as the tramp was unceremoniously released by the security men, who then made sure to stand quickly back, the odour obviously becoming too much for them. It would feel good, Alessandra thought, to release some more tension, as she looked at the man laid on the floor half a room away. Long matted black hair, an awful beard, disgusting. She should put a bullet in him out of principal.
Alessandra: A friend he says?
Security #1: You can understand why we didn't believe him...
Security #2: I feel sick...
She turns to the security.
Alessandra: Out.
They quickly disperse. She turned to Vincenzo.
Alessandra: You too.
She hated being watched. This was her sanctuary, her serenity. The same way Van Gogh wouldn’t want someone watching him perform his greatest piece of work, neither would she. She points to the wretched man on the floor.
Alessandra: You are either bold or exceedingly stupid. What exactly were you thinking you would get here, money?
The man coughed into a laugh, holding his hand to his mouth he pulled it back and looked at the mucus he just spat up, he ran his tongue along his hand licking it straight back in.
Man: A hot drink would be nice.
Alessandra didn't like strange tramps ignoring her questions nor did she appreciate them making requests for sustenance.
Alessandra: This is only going one way for you. The only question is quick or slow. I can oblige either.
The man looked up for the first time and stared at her.
Man: It's the beard, right?
The man coughed again, not even caring to cover his mouth, a glob of snot fell onto the floor in front of him, she might add his brains to it as well in a moment. He stared into her eyes and laughed, his voice broken and cold.
Man: My name is Joseph Malignaggi, and I am here because you are the only person I have left.
Alessandra felt her world turn in on itself. Her stomach knotted, her pulse raced and she broke out in a cold sweat. The cleaver fell to the floor narrowly missing her bare feet. It was him, it really was him. She looked into the deep blue eyes and she knew. She didn’t know what to do, what to think, what to say. So she hit him. The man fell like a sack of shit and coughed his lungs out again.
Alessandra: You look like shit.
That was the best she could manage. Three years of hurt, solitude and despair and that was all that she could manage. Alessandra collapsed back on the sofa, a multitude of feelings running through her. She was sickened and horrified to see... HIM... the love of her life, in this state, and yet adulated that he'd come back to her. In fact, it was a very rare case that Alessandra would let her guard down so quickly... but those words, that name... they revealed perhaps the only weakness in Alessandra’s repertoire.
The man...Joey...he clambered back up to his feet and shrugged his shoulders, simply pointing to his right toward the stairs.
Joey: Shower?
Alessandra: You come here after three fucking years and-
She sighed.
Alessandra: Third door on the left.
Joey turned from her without reply and headed off toward the sweeping staircase, he stopped at the bottom.
Joey: Your kindness… it’s not deserved.
He slowly ascended the stairs with an almost pathetic gait.
What had happened to him? The man she had once loved, a strong, confident man with all the wit, charm and dashing good looks a woman could ever dream of and suddenly, one day, he was gone. Disappeared. Vanished. Alessandra had been broken-hearted, at least, as much as her exterior would allow. Where had he been? Why had he left her, and why had he come to her now? These were things she didn't know, didn't understand, and while she could easily have mauled him for fucking off and leaving her, seeing him how he was... and the intrigue, the pique of curiosity... she had to see this through. Most pressingly though, she felt sympathetic. A little anyway. She probably felt more disgusted than sympathetic. No, that wasn't fair. She didn't know. She really didn't know. Joseph Malignaggi... where have you been? Where will you go from here? Somehow, she felt a changing in the wind.
She heard a noise coming down the stairs, and snapped out of her daydream. Despite still looking like a yeti, she couldn't help but giggle a bit at the sight of Joey wearing one of her pink silk robes and smelling of lavender bubble bath. His eyes darted about the room for a moment as if unsure what to do.
Alessandra: Now you look ridiculous.
Joey slowly made his way over to the sofa, his gaze fixed on it for a moment before he slowly sat down next to Alessandra.
Alessandra: You're very quiet. I...
She wasn't sure what to ask. She had a lot to ask.
Alessandra: What's happened?
Joey rested his hands on his knees and took in a breath.
Joey: You look beautiful.
Alessandra: Quite. Where were you?
Joey: Surviving.
Alessandra: Why are you here?
Joey flinched for a second.
Joey: For forgiveness...I guess.
Alessandra: Where have you been?
Joey: Running isn't an option anymore.
Alessandra felt confused, and concerned. Running from who? From her?
Alessandra: Where have you been??
She pushed him on this. Joey stood up, clenching his fists and releasing in quick motion. He was nervous.
Joey: I got involved with some people Ally, some REALLY bad people, the likes you don't wanna know even exist, let alone-
Alessandra knew. She was probably in business with half of them. Joey didn’t know. He would never know about her, how deep the rabbit hole went. He was as small time as it ever got. They would never have even met save for meeting Joey back when he was wrestling for a celebrity fund raiser her brother had organised. She didn’t know he lived half his life in her world then, she wished to the bottom of her heart he didn’t. Joey was pure. He was kind. He just grew up in the wrong place with the wrong people. Last time she had seen him he came in soaked in blood and coked off his face. He was a shell of himself and a husk of the man she had fallen in love with.
Joey paused for a moment, and then spoke again almost pitifully: I'm not a coward.
Alessandra: I never said you were.
She didn't think he was. If he'd got on the wrong side of the wrong sort of people, running was a very good idea. She didn’t doubt his manhood, just his intelligence. If he could just tell her. He knew her father had the level of influence he did, he could have protected you from anything Joe…
Alessandra: It couldn’t be that bad, why didn’t you just talk to me? You know my father would have-
Joey steadied himself.
Joey: No. This is my fight, this is my fuck up. I’ll deal with it myself. I can’t let them-
Alessandra: Let them what?
Joey turned to look at her, before quickly looking away again.
Joey: He took everything, everything...and it won't stop Ally.
All she needed was a name. This suffering would be ended by morning.
Alessandra: Whom is... "He"?
Joey slumped against the wall.
Joey: Yeah. Okay. Okay. Just…don’t hate me.
Alessandra: The name.
Joey: Robert Faccheti.
Alessandra’s heart sunk, she knew Robert. He had been who Joey introduced as ‘his father’ with a big toothy grin. Joey had told her that he was the one who got him ‘on the straight and narrow.’ He was a friend of her fathers too; she knew what the straight and narrow meant for him. She attended his daughters christening only two years ago. She knew Robert, he was her friend. She knew him…and he knew her. She could feel the rage building up inside her.
Joey: You remember Robert, Alessandra? I did everything for that man, I gave my blood, I gave him my SOUL, it’s disgusting isn't it, caught slipping because of loyalty and trust, because of belief...because of love. That’s who Alessandra, he ripped my heart out, and even now just won’t let it rest.
Alessandra: I remember him. What…what happened?
Joey: It's what happens when someone gets greedy, and others are too stupid to realise it, that’s all.
Alessandra: Greed is a fatal flaw.
Joey stared at her for a moment.
Joey: Please, don't push this. It's nothing for you to worry about.
Alessandra: I’m pushing this Joseph. What happened?
Joey slams his fist against the wall and spoke again, voice raised and agitated.
Joey: What happened? I lost everything, I lost EVERYONE. Do you understand what I'm saying? Why do you think I would leave this place, leave you?!
Alessandra hadn't expected this.
Alessandra: I... I don't know...
Joey: Okay then, let me spell it out for you, everyone I have ever cared for, everyone I have ever loved is dead, because of this, because of this bullshit I got myself into. Everyone except you.
Alessandra stared at Joey. She was incandescent. She pictured his face. Robert Faccheti. Fucking snake. You robbed me. You robbed me of my life. You fucking snake, you cockroach. You smiled at me; you kissed my hand and called me beautiful knowing that you had done…this, this to Joseph. It goes beyond rage, Alessandra was about to go fucking nuclear.
Joey: And I'm gonna make sure that doesn't change.
Alessandra just felt a deep chill run through her. She didn't say anything, but it was her turn to look away.
Joey: If these people can't get to you, they slowly and carefully destroy everything around you. I guess you can say I left because I was selfish, scared and weak. I left my friends to die and I didn’t think twice. I left you. I can’t do this.
She looked away again, she didn't want him to see the anger building up inside her. Her whole body was shaking with fury. Joey took a few steps away from her.
Joey: I was looking after numero uno, as always, and you don't have to care, I don't deserve it.
Alessandra: I care.
Joey: Don't. If I could take all the pain I caused people on to myself I would. I don't even know why I’m here.
Alessandra: We all cause pain Joseph. I've caused a lot of pain and suffering in my life...
She stopped mid-sentence. Joey slaps the wall and glares at Alessandra.
Joey: Don't you pity me. You should hate me, resent the day we met, god knows I do.
Alessandra shrugged.
Alessandra: Well maybe I'm just stupid then. You need to worry less about my pity, and more about the pity you have for yourself. The Joseph Malignaggi I knew wouldn't feel sorry for himself! He wouldn't stand there putting himself down! As far as I can tell, the reason you came here is because you've lost your self-respect!
Joey: Look, I should just go; this is a waste of time.
Joey turns away and walks past Alessandra. Alessandra snorts with derision.
Alessandra: And where exactly are you going to go, hmmm? Find a tramp to do some meths with? Find a ditch to shrivel up and die in?
Joey smiles.
Joey: That'd be heaven.
Alessandra: Just stay here, for God's sake. You're better than this! Besides... you'll be safe here. And that's what matters the most.
Joey stares out of the window, ignoring Alessandra.
Joey: Anywhere I go I’m in danger. No more running, I guess sometimes you have to pay the piper.
Alessandra: Rubbish. We're all in charge of our own destiny. Its dog eat dog out there, and you're looking like a mighty fine meal at the moment but you’ll figure something out…we'll figure something out, okay?
Joey finally looks at her.
Joey: I don't want you hurt.
Alessandra: I'm a tougher lady than you think Joey. I'll take that chance.
Joey: Maybe, but I won't. You're the last thing-
Joey coughs once more and turns away, as he stumbles through the hall. Alessandra follows him and grabs him roughly.
Alessandra: Let me put it this way. You don't get a choice in the matter. You're staying here and that's the end of it. No-one will get past the security here, I assure you.
Joey: I did.
Joey looks at her, and for the first time Alessandra sees the terror in the man's eyes.
Joey: Look, I don't-
Alessandra walks up to him, and gingerly puts an arm around him.
Alessandra: You’re safer here. I won't let you walk away. I’ve had three years snatched from me. No more, you understand? I don’t care what issues you have or what bullshit we have to wade through. You will survive, and that’s all I need to know.
Joey clears his throat from lumping up and strokes her hair, pulling her head against his shoulder, tears running down his cheeks, no longer his gaze wavering.
Joey: I will take care of this. I will take care of it all.
11/11/14 - Present
We open with the cameraman descending a set of stairs, shaky and with heavy breathing we follow Joey Flash.
Joey: Oh Jesus fuck.
He turns to look at the camera, a look of fear in his eyes. He opens a door at the bottom and darts inside.
Joey: If you’re coming fucking come, don’t wait outside.
This seemed to be said with genuine concern then anger. We enter the room to find a bomb shelter, heavy packed with cans of terrible food and large bottles of expensive water.
Cameraman: I didn’t take you for a Doomsday prepper.
Joey wheels round toward him.
Joey: What? I’m not. Jesus oh god.
Joey is nearly hyperventilating.
Joey: I just need, I just need to sit down or something. You better have closed the fuckin door.
Cameraman: Then what’s the deal with this place?
Joey: Huh? What you haven’t fucking heard? Look man if you value your life you need to get out of here, you need to do it now.
Cameraman: Uhhh.
Joey: Motherfucker have you not seen Dawn of the Dead? Oh fuck.
Joey scrambles on the floor for some makeshift weapon. He ends up with a shovel.
Joey: Yo when I signed the contract with this fucking thing I signed it to wrestle ya know? I did not sign up for this. This is bullshit.
Joey practices a few jabs with the shovel.
Joey: Yeah…this’ll do. This’ll do just fine. Okay. I’m ready, I’m fucking ready for you.
Cameraman: Oh, you’re fighting Zombie McMorris.
Joey: Bitch was that not fucking obvious? All I wanted to do was have a nice time ya know, enjoy wrestling, maybe put the odd beatdown on a punk from time to time but to have me fighting undead warriors is not part of my contract. What the fuck? Like I’m supposed to beat someone who is fucking dead? Unless I’m bringing a shotgun to the ring with me quite honestly I’m fucked.
Cameraman: Joey I don’t-
Joey: You don’t anything! You don’t have to fight a fucking zombie. What’s next I’m going to be sparring with a Xenomorph? Gonna be fighting Godzilla in a fucking cage match?
He slumps to the floor.
Joey: Ahhh fuck, how do I even train for this? Not like I can find another zombie to practice against. I’ve been studying my opponent though, close as I could fucking get. They only had Season 4 of The Walking Dead at the store, shit was terrible but I’ve got a good fix on his movement though, doesn't have the best of footwork. Just gotta avoid that fuckin bite. I hope he gets disqualified if he bites me and I die. That would be nice at least. It’s against the rules man.
Joey pauses for a moment. He begins laughing and throws the shovel to the ground.
Joey: Really? Good almighty god.
Cameraman: I was about to call the mental hospital.
Joey: Shut it. Hello Mr Z McMorris. You have the face of a keyed Taurus. How’s it going today? I’ll get to you in a second. Gotta take care of some business.
OCCULO! What up buddy. How’d that feel? As blasé as I was about fighting the pair of you, you actually entertained me. What an interesting little mite you are. You caught my interest, pretty good of you really. Want a little secret? Come closer.
The camera obliges.
Joey (whispering): I’m going to cost you your shot at being number one contender at Slam. You entertain me in your struggle. You are very much a product of your environment, so I’m going to mould you into something even more interesting I think. You’re my new hobby. Will the little mite become a beautiful butterfly? Or will the little mite be ground down underfoot. I think the former. That’s why I’m spending my time on you. Be prepared.
Joey steps back from the camera.
Joey: Where was I? Oh yeah, I was nowhere, zombies, right! I actually did well last week; I watched a lot of WCF programming. This helped a fuck ton. Main thing being I actually know who the fuck you are. Well, kinda. So you are-
Joey fumbles for a piece of paper and reads.
Joey: -WCF Television Champion and WCF Tag Team Champion.
Joey applauds.
Joey: Congratulations man. I’m so happy for you, genuinely. I think I might even shed a tear. You know when you watch those Make a Wish videos and see the little retards jump up and down and be so delighted they managed to have something positive in their life for once, that actually happened to you. You succeeded man. You got game.
Joey wipes a tear.
Joey: I got a few questions though. First but foremost…what in holy fuck are you? Like really? You are one of the strangest, most bafflingly stupid people in this federation, of which there are lots. I think you might be the spunk floating at the top of the flotsam of ridiculousness. Let me get this straight, you go from cryptic harbinger of doom when you’re alone to angry wigger when with your friends?
You go hard when you’re solo, I can appreciate that. But the second either of the other two mongoloids appear you turn into this strange thing that speaks in a language I can barely fucking understand. From Zombie McMorris to ‘ZMAC’ the cockhead the second the smell of kush crosses his nostrils. It’s like Superman going into the phone booth and coming out as a single celled amoeba.
Cameraman: Oh! I can help!
Joey: Huh?
Cameraman: Listen.
The cameraman uses his phone to play:
Joey: Okay so what I’ve gathered. Is a machine gun is a tommy, a murder is homi and a massive faggot is a Zombie? I’m feeling it.
Z-Mac, ya team wack I’d get ya’ll wrecked for three stacks.
I’ll think of more. For now, we continue the roasting session. You’re that annoying motherfucker who goes around saying ‘nigga this’ ‘nigga that’ ‘nigga pick’ ‘nigga get whipped’ on the basis you have ONE black friend. That class as a pass nowadays? Steve Orbit is looking shaky baby. What would your mother say if she could see you now?
I’ve been here what, one week? Aight. So not long, I have absolutely no idea how you set of jokers managed to get the stranglehold on all the top spots here. Truly baffles the mind. You’ve either had it easy or gotten very lucky. All these new wrestlers here trying to make nice, trying to build shit, I’m here for all of your heads; I’m here to kill shit.
Joey pauses and starts jumping up and down in glee.
Joey: I thought of a rhyme!
I’m slicker than ICEman I’m cold as a glacier
Zombie cunt I’ll brutally rape ya,
Do me a favour.
Your friends might try to futilely save ya
Write your eulogy with the same chalk they’ll be using to trace ya
I’ll smoke you all and reduce you to vapor.
Cameraman coughs.
Joey: I’m coming for your title cocksucker. Make that lil Vapor trophy cabinet a little emptier one by one. But I start with you. If Vapor Kings was a video game you wouldn’t even be the boss on the first level. I like to find some kind of connection with people I fight; I hope even those where I don’t find it at first they manage to have a bit of depth about them, something making them driven or strong so they show me when mano a mano in the ring. You? Fucking joke. How is anyone supposed to form a connection with you?
Fans don’t like you, they don’t care. I’ve seen you on TV nigh on ten times and I couldn’t tell someone ten things about you. Was that apathy on my part or was that due to the fact you babble on a hell of a lot but don’t really say much? You’re the idiot in the room who thinks ‘he who speaks loudest speaks truth’. Well the truth is this: I find absolutely no connection with you, fans find no connection with you.
I don’t know who the fuck you are, am I off base with everything I said here, am I ignorant to you as a person and a wrestler? Why would you expect me to know huh? Because you don’t know your fucking self. I’m an open book; you’re a page that people have already wiped their shit with. Maybe this can be the beating that finally puts a bit of sense into that thick fat head of yours. You’re clouded and you’re lost. I’ll find you McMorris, none of your babbling bullshit can help you in the ring. Your posse can’t help you, only you can help you. I hope we can come to a mutual understanding in the ring so when I take your title it won’t be for naught. You’ll be proud, you’ll be free and you’ll for the first time in an age be happy…
Or maybe you’ll just get your fucking face stomped in and be sent to the hospital. Who knows? I don’t view this match as any more than it is; this isn’t a stepping stone or a test of my true skill. This is a match between two men. You have something I want, I’m going to take it and you’re going to do nothing about it.
You wouldn’t have even paid attention to my debut last week, nor given me a second thought. ‘Ehh I’ve seen these people come and go…nigga. Ya’ll get murk’d anyway!’ I’m warning you now and I’m giving you fair warning what I’m going to be bringing. I don’t want to catch you slipping nor do I want to eek a tough victory out because you weren’t prepared. I want to put you straight into that black leather bag and zip you up as a warning to the rest of the federation what it’s gonna be like when you face me.
He picks the shovel back up.
Joey: Good luck Honey Badger, shine my title. Bodybags on deck.
You’re finished.
CUT
Later that evening.
The old man’s hand was shaking as he pressed the button ‘Penthouse’ on the elevator pad. He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusting his tie. His face still showed the signs of last week; he would be permanently scarred below his left eye. All for money. The doors opened with a ping, and he stepped out, to be greeted by a large bouncer.
Dewey: I’m h-here to see Mr.Flash.
The bouncer looks him up and down.
Bouncer: Follow me.
The bouncer led him through Flash’s beautiful roof garden. He took his time to close his eyes and take in the smells around and gave a happy sigh before realising what he was here for. The bouncer raised a hand to stop him.
Bouncer: Wait here.
The bouncer then guided Dewey to a bench in the garden and sat him down, before returning to his place at the elevator. Dewey could hear laugher coming from inside of Flash’s office, there was someone else in there, a tall muscled Hispanic with a buzz cut and tattoos.
Joey handed him a glass of red wine, taking a sip of his own.
Joey: You came highly recommended, and I must say you lived up to your end and more Miguel.
Miguel: Thank you Mr.Flash.
Joey: Tell him his baby will be delivered fine.
Miguel: Yes Mr. Flash.
Joey sets his glass down and looks up at his set of CCTV monitors and his smile disappears.
Joey: I have something to deal with, if you don’t mind?
Miguel: Of course. Say hello from me.
Joey: Adios.
Miguel and Joey shake hands before Miguel leaves the room, glancing at Dewey before whispering to the bouncer and opening the door to the elevator.
Joey: Come in.
Dewey tentatively gets to his feet, still shaking he ambles into Flash’s office. To his surprise, Flash has a wide smile. This isn’t good. Joey motions to sit down, to which Dewey obliges immediately. Joey studies Dewey. He pulls the wine bottle out again.
Joey: Drink?
Remembering last time…
Dewey: N-n-no thank you, I-i don’t drink anymore.
Joey puts the wine back down.
Joey: Good to hear it buddy. It’s not good for your health. How are you doing?
Dewey: F-fffine thank you.
Joey leans over the desk and loses the smile as quickly as he gained it.
Joey: Do you remember our conversation when you brought me my money, Dewey?
Dewey wriggles in his seat.
Dewey: Y-yes sir.
Joey: Well, as I did you a favour by allowing you to keep your…amenities. I want that favour returned. Now Dewey, I am not an unreasonable man. I know there are things outside your capabilities and your morality, so I will not push you beyond yourself. However I need…
Joey bends over the table and whispers into Dewey’s ear. Dewey’s face droops almost immediately after Flash has finished speaking.
Dewey: You can’t be serious?!?! I can’t!!
Joey (sighing): I’m disappointed Dewey. I had trust in you that you would repay my favour, but by not performing a simple request? I find that not as much disappointing, but insulting. I didn’t want it to come to this. But do you know what address this is?
Joey unfolds a piece of paper from his desk and shows it to Dewey, who now has tears in his eyes.
Dewey: Oh god. OK, OK. I’ll do ask you ask. Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Joey: I want it done tonight, no later.
Dewey: Of course I will.
Joey lifts the wine bottle out again.
Joey: Dutch courage?
Dewey: Please.
Joey just hands the bottle over to Dewey. His will to not drink reduced in an instant, he takes a big swig.
Joey: Once this is done, consider yourself a free man, Webster.
Dewey: Thank you. Thank you.
Joey: Leave.
Dewey takes another drink of the wine before stumbling out of the office. Joey reclines in his chair letting a loud sigh. His heart rate was high; this was the nature of things. He needed this, he needed it now. Joey pulled a case from the bottom drawer, opening it to carefully retrieve his sanctuary. He pressed the needle into his arm and squeezed. His world was right again, the demons wouldn’t come for him now, they wouldn’t come tonight.
It had been five years, nearly five years since Robert Faccheti had died and Joey was free. He remembered the look on the children’s faces, he remembered that look of confusion, pain and hurt. He remembered their cries of ‘Daddy’ as they saw their father’s brains spilling from his skull. His killer too stupid to cover his face or wear a mask. Joey was an idiot; he was an idiot then, he was a child killer now.
He didn’t remember it, but he knew. He knew. Reading the news next day was a dagger to Joey’s ‘purity’, to his sanity and to his life. What was it worth? Do unto others as they do to you? Well done junkie. Joey Flash was successful, he had a beautiful four year old child and a fiancée who loved him more than the world itself, he was becoming a wrestler again and trying to recapture the last aspect of his soul that still existed. Do you deserve a title killer?
Do you deserve anything at all?
Do you deserve to live? There’s the roof, just throw yourself off. It’s easy.
No more pain for you.
An eye for an eye, it’s what they would want. Those two children, those two witnesses, those two headstones.
Joey stared into his wine glass, his vision hazed and blurry. He began laughing, and then he sobbed.
How does success taste? This is the part that scared him the most, this is the part that haunted his dreams more than any, after everything…
…success tasted fucking beautiful.
End.
